


The Shirt

by tomtresser



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomtresser/pseuds/tomtresser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kon likes it when Tim wears the shirt</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shirt

Kon likes it when Tim wears the shirt. He likes it when Tim slips on any of his clothes really, but especially _the shirt_. It's big on Tim, which is no surprise. Tim's never been a very large guy. He's got a strong body—well muscled—but he's more compact than many in the cape and cowl crowd—shorter too. It doesn't stretch across his chest and shoulders the same way it does on Kon, but that extra looseness is appealing. There's just something about seeing the big red S emblem across his chest—the black cloth against his skin. The first time he'd seen Tim slip it on, it drove him wild. He'd pushed Tim back down against the sheets and kissed him senseless. He has a fetish, so sue him.

Having plenty of backups is a necessity. It's easy to wreck them or leave them in a hurry to change into civilian clothes, and he isn't particularly occupied with organization (unlike Tim), so he hadn't realized Tim had taken one until he'd first seen it on him. He's since discovered that Tim sleeps in it at night when they're away from each other (a discovery that Tim had clearly not intended for him to make, judging by his response when Kon's eyes had fallen to notice the emblem on Tim's chest that first time Kon had snuck into Tim's room after they'd gotten together). The thought remains both arousing and heart warming. Often at night, when they're apart, he imagines Tim wearing his symbol—sleeping soundly in his clothes—and he smiles out his window at the starry Smallville sky and feels close. Half the time Tim's probably not in bed, but rather swinging his way through Gotham, and Kon knows that. But it doesn't really matter, because he knows when Tim does get his much deserved rest, that's what he'll be wearing.

But imagining it never compares to wrapping his arms around Tim's waist and burying his face against the nape of his neck. So when he slips in Tim's window, he's already grinning to himself in the dark as he drops his bag on the floor.

“You awake?”

“Yes. I thought you'd be here earlier.” Tim's voice is aware and alert (because maybe some people have the prowess to surprise Tim, but Kon is definitely not one of them), if a little scratchy from sleep.

“Yeah, I got held up.” Kon pulls off his shirt and starts undoing his pants, and he can see that Tim's eyes are open in the pitch black room now.

“If there's blood or dirt on you, wash up. These are clean sheets.” Kon snorts at Tim's request and kicks off his pants.

“I know the rules, man, don't worry.” Tim just responds by pushing back the blankets in invitation. Kon gladly crawls to his side of the bed and slips in, quickly wrapping himself around Tim's frame. He feels Tim's body tense reflexively before he exhales and relaxes into being held. Kon lets out a breath of his own, comforted by the familiar fit of Tim's body against his and the clean smell of Tim's conditioner. Everything about it feels good. “So, what's new?”

“Not much since this weekend.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“How'd your exam go?”

“We are not wasting this time on school talk, Tim.”

“I was just asking.”

“I know, and I'm just saying let's not.”

“Okay,” Tim relents, sounding vaguely displeased.

“...I passed it, but it wasn't great.”

“Well, passing is good.” Kon nods against Tim's neck, really feeling like they could be using their time more productively.

“Soooo, you wanna fool around?”

“You're a very predictable guy, you know that?”

“That a no?” Tim actually laughs at the question, albeit silently, but Kon feels the rumbling against his chest. It makes him smile.

“It's not a no.” Kon kisses Tim's shoulder and gives him a playful squeeze.

“Is it 'not a no' or is it a yes?” Tim _hmmms_ contemplatively and Kon realizes he's being teased.

“I feel like you're really wasting valuable makeout time here.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Yeah, I'm not really thinking much about virtue at the moment,” Kon points out before he presses his lips to the nape of Tim's neck and nuzzles into his hair. When Tim moves to turn around in Kon's arms, he realizes he's holding him too close and loosens his grip, giving Tim the room to face him. He's not sure if Tim sees his smile in the dark but he can see the soft upward curve of Tim's lips.

Neither of them make any sort of move right away. These quiet moments they manage to share are always a much needed wind down from the near constant responsibility and pressure that is their lives, and there's a deep contentment for Kon in just being able to lay next to Tim—to feel him breath and hear the steady beat of his heart. His eyes flit down to the red S on Tim's chest and smiles wider. After a few extended moments of silence and stillness, Tim's lips quirk into a little smirk—the smug one that Kon used to hate, but now just always wants to kiss away.

“I thought you said I was wasting time.” Kon pulls Tim closer and into a kiss as response. It begins chastely, but it's warm and it's comforting, and when Tim lets out a soft sigh it eases the day's remaining tension from Kon's chest. 

Tim's fingers are pleasantly cool. They trail over Kon's abdomen and he slips a hand up under Tim's shirt (his own shirt, technically), flattening it against Tim's back. Their kissing is slow, and maybe even a little lazy, but they've earned slow and lazy a hundred times over.

Kon's shut out the noises of the world beyond the window. The only part of Gotham he wants to pay any mind to is currently pressed against him. Tim moves his hand to thread his fingers through Kon's hair and the kiss becomes less chaste. The beating of Tim's heart speeds up. It's one of Kon's favorite things, Tim's heartbeat.

He hooks his fingers in Tim's boxers and starts to tug them down. Tim has a propensity for patterned boxers. It's a fact that's tickled Kon since he'd discovered it. The first time he'd set eyes on Tim in boxers with little bats on them he'd laughed himself silly. It hadn't gone over well (and Tim had hit him in the head with the nearest pillow). He wonders what boxers it is he's touching now. 

“We have to be quiet,” Tim warns, breaking their kiss and interrupting Kon's thoughts.

“Should we not?”

“No, we can, we just have to be quiet.” Kon brings their lips back together and pulls Tim's boxers down over his slim hips. He likes Tim's hips. He generally likes Tim's everything, but he has a special fondness for Tim's hips. Tim inhales sharply. Kon smiles into the kiss but the expression falters when Tim palms him through his underwear. He shudders but recovers, grasping Tim's hardening dick. The sound Tim makes in response is soft and low—a vibration in his throat more than anything else.

Their legs are tangled together and Tim's rubbing his ankle along Kon's calf. It's something Kon's noticed Tim does during their more _intimate_ moments. He wonders if it's done absent mindedly— _hopes_ it's done absent mindedly. Kon likes to think he can get Tim out of that methodical head of his. Tim's legs have some scars here and there, but there's less evidence of his profession than on his torso. They have a smoothness from shaving, something Kon had been amused to learn is a necessity of the Robin costume. Beyond his initial amusement, he's into it. He likes having smooth skin to touch.

Tim sucks Kon's bottom lip into his mouth and Kon begins to stroke him. For a moment, Tim just curls his body into Kon's, his breath getting heavy and his heart beating faster. Regaining his head, Tim urgently pulls Kon's boxers down. Kon's already groaning at having his cock freed when Tim wraps his fingers around the base and squeezes. Their kissing is sporadic as they find a rhythm to touching each other. Tim's eyes are still closed, but Kon can't help but look. It would be too dark for Tim's human eyes to make out much anyway, but Kon can see Tim's parted lips. He can see the concentrated furrowing of Tim's dark eyebrows until Tim folds against him, burying his face against Kon's neck.

Kon revels in the warmth of all the points that their bodies are connected, but wants more. Tim's already so near, his breath coming quickly against Kon's collar bone. He presses their hips together and finds much appreciated friction. Kon reaches for his own cock and Tim gets the picture, moving his own hand out of the way. Tim shudders and Kon moans when he grasps them both, holding them in place so they can grind against each other.

Their movements are no longer lazy, but urgent and quick. There's pre come slick beneath Kon's fingers, easing their thrusting. The sound of Tim's heavy breathing becomes a steady stream of soft moans. They're accidental noises, open and mindless, and it makes Kon _ache_. Tim's fingers are digging into Kon's hip, holding tightly onto him as they rut against each other. If Kon were human, the strong grip would have left bruises in the morning, but he's not, so it's nothing but a pleasant pressure against his skin—a reminder of how lost Tim is to the squeeze of Kon's hand around them and the perfect friction of sliding against each other.

Kon moves more urgently, his hips jerking with less controlled movements. He knows he's on the edge but holds on. After all, what's super human stamina for if you can't make sure you don't come first? Not much, Kon feels. He can tell Tim's as on edge as he is. Kon can hear his heartbeat running wild and the breathing against his collarbone is ragged. He can feel how close Tim is in the tautness of Tim's thighs and the grip on his hip.

Everything is warm skin, and hot breath, and Tim's perfect, little noises. It's all stupid urgency and immediate gratification, and Kon is giddy with the moment. Soon enough, Tim's shaking against him and letting out an endearingly high pitched sound. He can feel Tim's well trimmed nails scrape across the unscratchable skin of his hip. Tim's cock is twitching against his in his hand and then Kon's fallen over the edge himself, barely noting Tim spilling over his fingers and between them. He buries his face into Tim's hair as he comes and his mind is just that perfect rush of absent pleasure.

When Kon's brain comes back online, he opens his eyes to Tim staring at him. Tim's wearing a composed smile, but his cheeks are flushed and he hasn't caught his breath in the least. It's unbearably cute and Kon grins before kissing him. The kiss is gentle and slow, all urgency long gone. They lay there like that for a moment, kissing lazily in between slowing breaths.

Tim pulls his boxers back into place and rolls onto his back when they pull apart, and Kon follows suit. Tim hands him tissues, which is still awkward, and doesn't really live up to a shower, but the last thing either of them wants is waking up parental units with washing off bodily fluids. He turns his head to find a tidied Tim staring down at himself almost sadly, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“...What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Tim says with a deep frown. “...I just like this shirt, and now it's—well, it's going to be stained.”

“Oh.” Kon can't help but smile at Tim's attachment to the garment. “You know I have a bunch of those, right?”

“You having a bunch of them and me having a bunch of them are different things,” Tim points out with a reproving look. Kon isn't totally sure why Tim's looking at him like that, but he wouldn't put it past embarrassment covered by superiority. Tim is good at that.

“Well, I'll give you another one.”

“That's not necessary.”

“You want another one, though, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tim says it almost begrudgingly and Kon has to work not to laugh.

“Well, then I'll get you another one.” Kon rolls back onto his side and curls against Tim. “I like you in it.”

“I've noticed.” Tim says it with the trademark hint of superiority but he rolls over onto his side and leans back into Kon, back against his friend's chest. Kon smiles and drapes his arm over Tim's waist. Kon means to respond with something witty but he's post-orgasmic and sleepy, and he winds up once again resting against the nape of Tim's neck. Closing his eyes, Kon listens to the soft puffing of his best friend's breath and the steady beat of his heart. And there's not much he can say in response anyway. He likes it when Tim wears the shirt.


End file.
